Macbeth Poem Collection
by High-Liter
Summary: 4 poems I made for a vocabulary assignment. Warning: Reading this may result in uncomfortable cringing, an underlying feeling of correcting grammar and punctuation, and pure sorrow. Beware. Beware like Macbeth should beware Macduff.
1. Banquo is Dead

**AN: This is the first in the collection of a bunch of cringe worthy poems I made for a vocabulary assignment.  
Beware of incorrect punctuation and incorrect usage of words.**  
**I am sorry.**

* * *

**Banquo is Dead!**

Oh no, oh my!

Banquo is dead!

Slashed in the throat,

Buffeted on the head!

Betrayed by whom,

He thought were a friend!

Oh no, oh my!

Banquo is dead!

He went for a ride,

As a way to spend time.

With his son he rode out,

Not aware of any crime.

"Flee my son!" He said,

From his body blood was bled.

Oh no, oh my!

Banquo is dead!

Slashed in the throat,

Buffeted on the head!

Betrayed by whom,

He thought were a friend!

Oh no, oh my!

Banquo is dead!

* * *

**AN: Wow. Banquo is dead.  
This reminds me of a movie I made for a project in a group in which we revived Banquo and had him kill everyone.  
Good times.  
Leave while you still can, for there is more where that came from.**


	2. Oh Scotland!

**AN: This is the second in the series of cringe worthy poems.  
It's Macduff addressing Malcolm in the whole "Oh Scotland" scene or whatever.  
I'd be surprised if you were actually able to finish reading this.  
Good luck on your suffering**

* * *

**Oh Scotland!**

"Malcolm, son of Duncan,

Would you listen to my plea?

I am Macduff of Scotland,

And I need you desperately!

Scotland has been cursed,

With a recent tyranny!

His lies and malevolence,

Has us with malady!

I entreat thee,

Son of king,

For you to lead inside his place.

To end his malice,

to husband Scotland ,

To rid us of his face!"

"Macduff,

Is it truly me you esteem?

I am a lecher.

Of women I am wanton.

If I am to lead,

All your wives and your daughters,

shall be mine to keep."

"There are many women,

That would commit to you in largess.

None of them homely,

Most of them gorgeous.

Purveyors of you pleasure,

Your experiences voluptuous."

"But what of the gems,

And the land that is owned?

If I am to be king,

I must claim them as my own.

All the riches and treasures,

All the profit and gain,

All the wonder and leisure,

Shall be in my name.

Would you want such a king

With an avarice so bane?"

"Much more than you need,

Is what Scotland should have.

Treasures in abundance,

All can be had."

"Are you sure that you can surfeit,

All of my pressing needs?

What if I desire the destruction,

Of the country you wish me to lead?

What if it was bloodshed I wanted?

Would you still remain undaunted?

Do you believe I would do better,

Than the tyrant at rule?

How could I ever save Scotland,

If I am simply more cruel?"

"Oh Scotland, Oh Scotland!

To replace a tyrant,

With another one worse,

We truly are doomed!

We truly are cursed!

Oh Scotland, Oh Scotland!

I forswear hope at all!

Spurn all of it I do!

If there is none fit to rule,

You are destined to fall!

Oh Scotland, Oh Scotland!

How will you be championed?

If the one to protect you,

Wishes your destruction?

How could the son,

Of such a noble man,

Be such a fool,

And wish the country's end!

Oh Scotland, Oh Scotland!"

"Do not fret loyal one,

For what I spoke were lies.

I have not baneful greed,

Lust is not of my mind.

I am not at all malicious,

My actions not pernicious.

I was only inspecting,

Of your true relation."

"You thought I was of Macbeth?"

"Yes! I was sadly mistaken!

With you I did flout,

I apologize if you're confounded.

My words were an equivocate,

A test of your loyalty!

If you truly wanted me,

One of true royalty.

Not to stab me in the back,

At the time given chance!"

"Can I truly believe,

That your words now are true?

That if you are bestowed king,

My choice I will not rue?

You will not become sovereign?

Can my trust be in you?"

"Your trust may be had,

And hope I shall bring,

For we will vanquish the one,

Who usurped to be king."

* * *

**AN: Wow you actually made it to the end. How noble.**  
**Really why are you even still reading this.  
I'm not telling you to stop but,  
you should.  
Or you could continue.  
That's fine with me.**


	3. Are You a Man?

**AN: This poem is about Lady Macbeth doubting her husband's manliness.**  
**I actually kind of liked this one.**  
**It still makes me cringe though.**  
**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Are You a Man?**

Tell me my dear,

Are you a man?

Or is your mettle petty,

Like a lost little lamb?

Truly my darling,

Are you of strong heart?

Should I fear our posterity,

Of a cherubic start?

Tell me, truly,

Can your actions be potent?

Or are they obscure,

Not even to be noticed?

Honestly darling,

In you, should I take pride?

Though you fear to respond,

To my trifling chide?

Surely, my sweetheart,

You would not to me mortify?

Will I not be of disdain,

Of what you may go by?

Now tell me, my dear,

Are you a man?

Or am I warranted to say,

That you are not,

But I am?

* * *

**AN: Such vocabulary. Very wow. I don't even know if I'm using half of these words correctly.**  
**Continue?**


	4. Weird Sisters

**AN: Poem about the witches.  
Imagine reading this along to some spoopy tune (preferably in 3/4 time), it makes it less cringe worthy.  
Unless you're a masochist and like reading cringe worthy pieces of literature (if you can even call this literature).  
Might as well read it.**

* * *

**Weird Sisters**

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Beguiling the credulous;

Charmless, unscrupulous.

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Thumbs they have rended off;

Necklace they put them on.

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Kindle their cauldron fire;

Searing with events prior.

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Harbringing augury;

Find mirth in things quite scary.

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Galling to many's minds;

Hideous to many's eyes.

Sisters of three,

Witches they be.

Weird they may seem,

Sisters of three.

* * *

**AN: Congratulations you won! This was the last poem. You can now say goodbye and good riddance!  
Unless you actually liked them,  
Which I doubt you did.  
Well woop-de-doop Scootalee-doop goodbye.**


End file.
